


Wait, Where Are We?

by centralperks



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Humour, Parody, Read at Your Own Risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 07:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centralperks/pseuds/centralperks
Summary: Couches and kitchens and bedsharing, oh my! A satirical look at the lives of two cooking, Montreal-dwelling, Jeopardy-watching Canadian ice dancers, one Canton party at a time.“What does the business side of the things even mean? Am I meant to be working with spreadsheets? Creating schedules? I feel like all I do is answer emails. Should the business side of things entail more than emails?”





	Wait, Where Are We?

**Author's Note:**

> Terrible at author's notes. This is meant to be satirical; each scene is unconnected to the last. Happy reading!  
> Also, before you get offended, I've lived in Montreal. And I love that city, but I stand by what I write.

“The neighbours are neglecting their personal hygiene.” 

Scott pushes the curtain back from the window, his knees resting on the windowseat. Tessa places her mug of tea down on her large, white marble island, going to join him. 

“What makes you say that?” She tugs her sweater further around her, adjusting her bun that rests on the top of her head. 

“I’ve been watching them for two – three days now. I can see clear into their bathroom and I’ve never seen them use deodorant. Isn’t that weird?”

“Maybe they’re hippies,” Tessa replies, dragging one foot underneath her. “Maybe they’re against deodorant.”

“Still,” says Scott, “it’s weird.” He pauses for a moment before going into the kitchen. “Why do I feel like I’ve been stuck in this house for days?”

Tessa follows him, resting her chin in her hands while she watches him pull ingredients from the cupboards in her pristine kitchen. “It’s how we fall in love. I can’t resist your cooking. Domestic bliss leads to lifetime love.” 

“Really?” Scott raises an eyebrow before serving her a plate. “Well, I guess we’ll be together forever, then.”

“Yeah,” says Tessa, carrying her plate into the living room to sit on a couch. “Also couch-dwelling. We have a lot of conversations on a couch that leads to us being in love. The couch has to be white, I don’t know why this one isn’t.” 

The TV flickers on, and Scott jumps as the Jeoprady theme song rings through. “Oh god,” he groans, “why did you have to mention this in an interview. Tess, if I hear this theme song one more time I’m going to go crazy.”

“This is how we fall in love, Scott. Just dwell in the domesticity.”

“If I don’t get out of this house I’m going to dwell in the depths of pain forever. Can’t we skip to the next scene?”

“I’ve got to drink some chocolate milk first – hang on.” 

“The neighbours are still neglecting their personal hygiene,” Scott grimaces.

“Change the scene – I’m sick of sitting on the couch.”

\---------

“Okay, Tess, one more push and you are good to go,” the doctor says, as Scott grips her hand on her right side. Within thirty seconds, the hospital room is filled with cries, and Tessa lets out a sigh of relief. 

“I hate doing that,” she says, head falling on her pillow, exhausted. “Scott, would you hand her to me after you’ve wrapped her in a blanket?”

“Sure,” he replies, “but how do you know it’s a girl?”

“It’s always a girl, Scott. It’s literally never not a girl.”

Scott scoots over to the doctor and takes the baby girl from her hands. “You’re right,” he says, “it is a girl.” 

Tessa raises her left hand before taking the baby. “Oh, that’s nice,” she says, “we’re married in this one. Nice ring, too.”

“Had it since I was seventeen, I think,” Scott says, trailing his finger over the baby’s face. “What do we name her?”

“Think of the longest, most elaborate name you can.”

“Martha Stewart.”

Tessa collapses in a fit of giggles. “Scene change, buddy.”

\--------

“Hey, there’s a toddler on your hip,” says Scott, letting himself into her house. “Where’d she come from? Is she Martha Stewart?”

There’s an awkward pause as Tessa regards him, head tilted to the side. “She’s yours, Scott. And no - different scene, remember?”

Scott furrows his eyebrow. “Ah." Pause. "But we haven’t talked in two – oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why aren’t we talking, again?”

Tessa shrugs her shoulders, passing the little girl to Scott. “Not sure.” Awkward pause. “I guess we should make up because of,” she gestures to the child, “unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” Scott sighs, “we’ll probably end up falling in love, too. Should we get a minivan? Am I meant to be on the PTA?” 

Tessa shrugs. “I don’t know, but I feel better already that we’re not fighting. Why are we always living in small Canadian towns? I think I’m going to go mental if we have to stay here.”

“Let’s do a scene change.”

“Definitely. I’m not ready to be a mother.”

\--------

“Oh god,” Tessa groans, head falling back on the wall of a stylishly decorated condo in Montreal, Quebec, “don’t people know that Montreal is so hot in the summer? Don’t they know that literally nobody likes Quebec – like, Quebec doesn’t even like Quebec? Why do we always get stuck in Montreal?”

“I don’t know,” Scott gasps, hands falling to his knees as he lets himself in from a run, “I hate French. I hate it. I don’t understand a word of it. Why do we speak French? We’re so far from France. We’re in Canada.”

“Do people not know that Quebec has been trying to separate from Canada since the dawn of time? That’s all they want. Separation. To be divided.” Tessa collapses against the countertops of the kitchen, legs stretched out in front of her. “The only good thing about this province is the bagels. The fashion isn’t even great. All women wear is puffy jackets with fur in the winter because it’s so cold. All the time. Except for in the summer when it’s so hot I don’t think I can breathe. And everybody smokes. So many smokers.”

Scott goes to the fridge and takes a long pull from a water bottle. “This is definitely my apartment, though,” he says in between sips, “that Leafs mug is not yours.” 

“Definitely not,” says Tessa. “Does your bed have Leafs sheets on them?” 

“Nah,” Scott says, “only at my mom’s house. Thank God.” 

“Well,” Tessa supplies, “at least we’re still in Olympic shape. That’s a good thing.”

“I’m so tired of French.”

\-------

“So,” Tessa asks, sitting at the island in her home in London, “I have a serious question.”

“Shoot,” says Scott, eating a bowl of cereal. “Wait, we don’t have a kid, right? There’s nobody I should be waking up for breakfast?”

“No,” Tessa says, waving a hand, “we’re still figuring out our relationship.”

“Fantastic. What’s your question?”

“What does the business side of the things mean? Am I meant to be working with spreadsheets? Creating schedules? I feel like all I do is answer emails. Should the “business side of things” entail more than emails?”  


Scott furrows his brow. “Tess, you’re asking the wrong person, I’m sorry. Didn’t you go to school for this stuff? Get an MBA?” 

“You say it like it’s that easy,” Tessa grumbles, “but no, not in this reality. I’m just taking care of the business side of things, but I don’t know what it entails besides emailing!” She puts her head on her laptop, her forehead pressing against the keyboard. 

“Don’t stress,” says Scott, coming to put a hand on her back, “we can figure this out together.”

“No, we can’t,” mumbles Tessa, “we don’t like each other enough for that remember?” 

“Right. We’re in that weird, not sure how to define our relationship stage.”

“Cut to the next scene, I’m sick of this.” 

\--------

“One bed,” Tessa remarks as she unlocks the hotel room door. 

“Means we’re sharing,” Scott says, biting off a piece of his granola bar. “Also means you’re going to fall in love with me tonight,” but it sounds more like “Awso meens yor gonta fall in wuv wif me,” and Tessa has to cover his mouth with her hand, her other still firmly clutching her suitcase.

“Listen, pal, in this reality we’ve been sharing beds since we were ten, so I think I know exactly how to act when in a bed with you.” 

“You’re right,” says Scott, swallowing the rest of his granola bar. “I’m going to check if there’s any good snacks in the vending machine, you want to come?”

“I should probably go talk to the guy at the front desk about our room mix up.” 

Scott laughs as he makes his way out the door. “He’s not gonna do anything, he never does. Chocolate?”

Tessa sighs. “Yeah. Even when I don’t want chocolate, I want chocolate. Wait up, I’ll come with you.” 

“So,” Scott says later, as they’re lying in bed, “the good part about this is that it’s not awkward because we’ve done it so many times.”

“What are you referring to?”

“Whatever you want me to be referring to.”

“I need a scene change.”

\---------

“Canton party,” Scott says, handing Tessa a red solo cup. “Always a good time.”

“You’re kidding, right? Pale, overly skinny, socially awkward figure skaters who hardly ever see sunlight and barely passed math? Yeah, this sounds like a recipe for a good time. Who’s basement are we in?”

“Charlie’s,” Scott says, taking a sip of weak beer, “always Charlie’s. I wonder why.”

“It always smells, too,” Tessa says, wrinkling her nose. “Do we kiss tonight?”

“Nah,” Scott replies, observing the crowd of teenagers, “just repressed sexual tension and jealousy. Fedor should be entering the scene at any minute to really capitalize on those emotions for us.”

“Fun,” says Tessa, taking a sip of her own beer and making a face. “It’s official, I think I hate these scenes the most. So gross. Who willing wants to go back to their teen years?”

Scott scoffs. “Not me, I still look like I’m twelve. Scene change?”

“For sure,” Tessa replies, bumping her fist against his.

\---------

“Well,” says Tessa, “this is new.” 

“Where are we?” 

“Not sure,” she says, turning her head around to survey her surroundings. “Hawaii, I think?”

“Huh,” says Scott, “untouched territory. I wonder what we’ll be here.”

Tessa grins. “Anything we want to be.” 

“Scene change?”

“Nah,” she says, lying back in the sand, “let’s stay here awhile.”


End file.
